


Where My Demons Hide

by Lady_in_Red



Series: The Ballad of the Kingslayer and the Lady Evenstar [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, post-adwd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After months apart, Brienne finds Jaime at Pennytree and begs him to help her save Sansa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jaime

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in 6 years, and first for this fandom. Title comes from the following lyrics.
> 
> So they dug your grave, And the masquerade, Will come calling out, At the mess you've made.  
> Don't wanna let you down, But I am hell bound, Though this is all for you, Don't wanna hide the truth…  
> When you feel my heat, Look into my eyes, It’s where my demons hide.  
> \- “Demons,” Imagine Dragons
> 
> Characters, settings, and a few scattered lines from A _Storm of Swords_ belong to the author.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime follows Brienne despite his misgivings.

Jaime knew his captains would be angry when they found him gone, but he hoped this wouldn’t take long. He’d known instantly that Brienne was lying. Lies did not come easily to her.

Even so, he’d forced her to eat and rest. Brienne didn’t want to, but Jaime had sent Pia to tend to her anyway. When he’d looked in on her later, she was curled up in his bed, shaking and muttering in her sleep. So Jaime slept in a chair at her side and slipped out before dawn to talk to his men. None asked who the woman in his tent was. There were few warrior maids in Westeros, and just one Jaime would shelter. If they questioned her presence, none had been bold enough to ask. Brienne had slept away most of the day, and was furious when she'd woken and found it nearly dusk already.

They had slipped away while the men were eating dinner.

Brienne rode ahead, tense in the darkness. They’d been traveling for hours, and while he was used to quiet travel with Ser Ilyn Payne, four moons had passed since they’d last seen each other. What did it say about him that he preferred his traveling companions big, scarred, and silent?

Jaime pushed his horse faster, coming up alongside Brienne. The bandage covering her cheek still disturbed him. He had asked Pia about it, but Brienne hadn’t let her touch it.  “Are you going to tell me what happened to your face?”

She flinched, but kept her eyes on the track ahead. “I told you. It was a bite.”

"Yes, you said. A wolf, perhaps?” He couldn’t help teasing her, even now. He’d missed this. _Come on, wench, fight back._

She didn’t answer right away, scanning the dark horizon again, avoiding his eyes. Quietly, Brienne answered. “Biter.”

He remembered Biter all too well. “I will kill him,” Jaime growled, surprising himself. How like Father he sounded.

She turned to him for a moment before dropping her eyes again, and shook her head. “There is no need. A smith put a spear through his throat.”

A spear was too clean a death for that one. “Did he….”

Brienne laughed, a harsh barking sound, and then coughed. She massaged her throat for just a moment. “No, ser. That I was spared.”

Where was she taking him? The question had been on his lips since they left camp, but Jaime had found he couldn't ask. Clearly she wasn’t taking him to Sansa. The Hound would never threaten to kill Sansa Stark. Clegane, for all his brutality, had never struck the girl on Joff’s command, unlike Jaime’s other supposedly honorable Kingsguard brothers. Why would he take her? There was no one left to ransom her to but Cersei, and Clegane would never crawl back to the Lannisters.

“How much longer must we continue this charade, my lady?” Jaime finally asked, pulling up short and directing his horse off the path into a clearing. It would not do to set upon by outlaws now.

Brienne turned and saw he’d stopped. She urged her horse to follow him, but avoided his eyes. “Ser?”

Jaime smiled sadly. “Brienne, lies suit you as poorly as gowns.”

Brienne flushed, her eyes growing desperate. “We must ride. They will die if I don’t come back.”

With some difficulty, Jaime dismounted. He would look her in the eye for this. “They?”

Reluctantly, with a long look to the distant horizon, Brienne slid off her horse. Her knees almost buckled, and Jaime reached out to catch her. She flinched away from his touch. Brienne raised her eyes to his for a moment, then looked away again.

As the silence stretched, Jaime made a decision. However long it took her to speak, he would wait. Gently, he said, “I’ll gather some wood. We’ll have a fire.”

Brienne shook her head vehemently.  “Ser, we must go.” There it was again, a plea he’d never heard in her voice before. Even facing Vargo Hoat’s men she’d never begged.

Jaime remained firm. “I would hear the truth.” For all her talk of honor, he knew this would wound her. “I’ve earned that much.”

Brienne nodded. Jaime gathered wood and Brienne lit the fire. Jaime sat down on a fallen log to wait. He was losing patience, but he stifled the urge to wound her further with words. Brienne had clearly suffered during the time they were apart. She'd come back to Jaime, only to lie to him. Perhaps she was more changed than he knew.

 Finally she sat down across the fire from Jaime. Brienne twisted her hands together and stared at them. “I have not found Sansa,” she sighed.

 “For whose sake do you lie to me?”

 Brienne looked up then, stung to hear it put so baldly. “I had no choice. They will die if I don’t bring you back.”

 “Who, wench? If I must ask again, I will leave.”

 “Pod, my squire. And Ser Hyle Hunt. He left Lord Tarly’s service to follow us. They will hang if I do not return with you.”

 “Ah yes, Lord Beric's Lady Stoneheart? She hung Walder Frey’s heir not a week ago. Good riddance. At least Dondarrion does not hang everyone he meets.” Jaime sighed. He had no wish to fight the Brotherhood alone, and they would not allow him to bluff his way out.

 Brienne began to weep, great shuddering sobs that Jaime did not know how to handle. With Cersei once he would have simply kissed away her tears. The wench would punch him if he tried that. “It’s Lady Catelyn, Jaime.”

 “That’s not possible. They say that Dondarrion cannot be killed, but Lady Catelyn…” he hesitated. He couldn’t remember which details Brienne had heard. “Her throat was slit. She couldn’t live. It must be someone else.”

 “Her throat, her face… they are a ruin. Yet she moves and speaks. The Brothers fear her. Lord Beric sacrificed himself to raise her and her vengeance cannot be quenched.” Brienne shuddered at the memory.

Gods, she must have demanded him in trade. “She released you to lure me to her?” Jaime asked.

 “I saw no other way,” Brienne said miserably, wiping away her tears.

 Jaime was quiet, which he could see unnerved her. She was used to his quick japes and thoughtless insults. Silence was her language, not his.

 “You are so young. I know you don’t think so, stop scowling at me so. But you are. At your age, I’d fought the Kingswood Brotherhood, been knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne, and sworn my life to the Kingsguard. I’d stood outside the door while Aerys raped his queen, suffered the screams and the stench as he burnt untold enemies in the throne room, and finally I slit the monster’s throat. Robert still named me Kingslayer, and never let anyone forget it.” Jaime paused a moment, letting his words sink in. What was it about her that made him spill secrets as if they were nothing? His anger ebbed. “That was half a lifetime ago. War makes monsters of good men. Your considerable skill with a blade would not save you if you treated battle as a tourney. A soldier does not yield. You win or you die.”

 “I heard much the same speech on the Quiet Isle. I did not think to hear it from you as well,” Brienne scolded. “I have killed men and seen much since we parted. But I would not harm you.”

 “Then what would you do? You lied to me. Where is your honesty, your honor? If this is what your quest has wrought, I take it back. Go back to Tarth, Brienne. Forget all this and go home. Leave now, while there may still be a lordling somewhere who hasn’t heard tales of your deeds.” Jaime hadn’t intended to tell her to leave. She wouldn’t go, damn stubborn fool.

 Brienne’s blue eyes blazed, her face darkening as she flushed with anger. “I don’t want a husband! How many times must I say it? No man would have me but to hold Tarth. I was ugly enough before, but now....”

 Jaime stood and strode over to her before he had to listen to more complaints about her ugliness. She would never be a great beauty, especially now, and she would not believe such lies. He sat beside her and took her rough hand in his. She would die if she continued on this path.

 She stared at their entwined hands. Roughly, Jaime used his golden hand to tip her face up until they were eye to eye. “Lady Brienne of Tarth, hear me. You are fierce, strong, loyal beyond all reason. You are one of the best swordsmen in Westeros. And the gods in their mercy set the most astonishing blue eyes in your plain face. But you are also pig-headed, naive, and a terrible liar. Go home, before this war ruins your soul as well as your body.”

 He let his golden hand slip from her jaw and turned to stare into the fire.

 “My plan … was to tell you I’d lied just before we reached the Brotherhood. I would not bring you into an ambush. I hoped to free Ser Hyle and Pod before they took me again.”

“They would cut you down and kill the others anyway.” His eyes narrowed. “You hoped I would kill you where they could see.”

Brienne smiled sadly. “I’d rather die with a sword in my hand than strung up again.” She dropped his hand to loosen the scarf knotted around her neck. A deep red and purple welt circled her throat.

 Anger flared in Jaime’s chest. At the stupidity of the wench, at the gall of the Brotherhood, at himself for sending her out here alone. He stood, couldn’t bear to be so close to her.  “And I would … what? Run away? You think me so craven as to kill you and flee?”

 “I know you are smart enough to know when to retreat, ser.” Brienne was resigned. Her eyes flickered around the fire, and Jaime began to wonder how close the Brotherhood really was.

 “That makes one of us. Seven hells, wench, there is no good end here. I will not sit by while you rush into the Stranger’s embrace. I hear your voice chiding me enough when you aren’t here. If you died for me, the badgering would never cease.”

 Silence stretched out between them. Finally a small smile curved her wide mouth. “You hear my voice?”

 Jaime laughed without mirth. “Often. My men hate you. Not by name, but by the way your whispers change my commands. Even now they sleep outside the holdfast in Pennytree because I refused to let them break down the gate. They eat meager rations because I ordered them not to raid the fields as we march.” He sighed. “I am not well loved by my men.”

 Her eyes shone with a small measure of pride. He was glad to see something other than misery reflected back at him. “The smallfolk thank you for it.”

 “Thank the Kingslayer? The Others will march into the Red Keep first.”

 “Ser Jaime…”

 “Kingslayer, wench. Let us not forget ourselves. You are the Maid of Tarth, wielder of Valyrian steel, keeper of oaths and honor. I am the Kingslayer, soiler of white cloaks, a liar and a cripple.” He touched her arm lightly as he said this, then reached up to touch her scarred face. He ran one finger along the edge of her bandaged cheek. His eyes darkened. “They healed you.” He gently traced her jaw and down across the welts on her throat. “And then they hung you.” His voice was a growl. “Because of me.”

 Jaime pulled back, seeing confusion in her eyes. He wasn’t sure why he kept touching her, why her injuries disturbed him so much. He’d been glad to rid himself of her when she left King’s Landing, glad to travel without her surly silences and the way her presence disturbed the other men. He stood, walked around the fire a few steps.

 Jaime turned back to her. “I went back to Harrenhal. Hoat was already dead thanks to your bite, but I visited the bear pit. Seemed prudent to remind myself of one of my stupider moments. There was a knight there who said he knew you. Red hair. Ugly as sin and twice as stupid.”

 Brienne nearly spat the name. “Connington. I knew him. Our fathers tried to arrange a betrothal. It didn’t end well.”

 Jaime nodded. “So he said. Alas he didn’t stop talking. I had to remind him that there are consequences for speaking ill of a lady.”

 “You needn’t fight my battles, Jaime,” she sighed.

 “I know, but it was deeply satisfying to feel his teeth break.” He held up his golden hand and demonstrated how he’d swung at Red Ronnet. “For once it came in handy,” he laughed, gratified to see her smile at his truly terrible jest. A smile changed her whole face. It did not render her beautiful, or even pretty, but her eyes sparkled in a way that pleased him. She was nothing like Cersei. Thank the gods.

 “I ran into the Brave Companions,” Brienne offered, lightly enough that he knew she’d gotten the best of their encounter.

 “With your steel, I hope,” Jaime grumbled.

 She nodded. “Zollo wasn’t with them, but I cut off Timeon’s hand before he died.”

 “I approve, wench. And I thank you,” he offered, as sincerely as he could. It was still difficult not to needle her with every remark, too easy to get under her skin.

 The wind rustled in the trees, cold fingers extending all the way down from the Wall. A reminder that winter was well on its way. They could not sit here all night talking. His men were waiting back at Pennytree. Were hers still waiting for her return? Waiting to hang?

 “Is Thoros still with the Brotherhood?”

 Brienne’s smile disappeared in an instant. “Yes, the red priest was there. He was kind, in his way, but he obeys his Lady.”

 “If Thoros is there, perhaps your men live. He was a drunken fool, though he wasn’t stupid. But Stoneheart may have hung them the minute you left.” Jaime would not coddle her about this. “Even if we go to her, she is like to hang us all. Even in life Lady Catelyn was not forgiving. Evidence mattered little to her when she imprisoned Tyrion at the Eyrie.” Brienne started to defend Catelyn, but Jaime cut her off. “He was innocent, Brienne. It was Joffrey. I didn’t know then, only after Joff died.”

 “What makes you think I would stop her from hanging them?” As Brienne and Jaime both stood and drew their swords, Thoros of Myr stepped out of the trees.


	2. Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Legends rarely live up to their reputation in the flesh,” Jaime said quietly. “The Blackfish found me most disappointing.”

“Thoros, what brings you skulking about?” Jaime asked, his eyes scanning the trees for more of the Brotherhood. He took up a position with his back against Brienne’s, holding his sword in his left hand. 

“I’ve been to see your men, Kingslayer. Put a cup of ale in their hands and you can’t stop them from talking. Your lady swore that you’d changed. Nearly to her last breath, in fact. I thought to hear from your men, who would not be blinded by a pretty face and sweet words.”

At this Brienne snorted. “Ser Jaime had no sweet words for such as me.”

“I was uncommonly cruel at times. I oft compared her to a sow,” Jaime agreed. “Also my face was not so pretty smeared with filth and my sword hand dangling around my neck.”

Thoros looked back and forth between them. “Lady Stoneheart named your lady traitor, Kingslayer. She carried a letter from King Tommen and her blade is the twin of your own.” At that Brienne glanced over her shoulder to the ornate sword in Jaime’s hand and was dismayed to see his left arm already shaking with the weight. Thoros did not lie. The sword was clearly the same red and black rippled Valyrian steel.

They were standing so close Brienne could feel when Jaime relaxed. Thoros was armed, certainly, but he seemed to want to talk. Perhaps he’d tired of hangings. Jaime sheathed his blade. “Come sit by the fire, Thoros. The night is dark and full of terrors.”

Brienne’s eyes followed Jaime full of questions. This was not the time for a pleasant chat. Jaime shook his head slightly as she glanced pointedly at Thoros. Reluctantly Brienne sheathed Oathkeeper, but she did not sit. She remained on guard, and Brienne had an unpleasant sense of deja vu. Renly meeting with his bannermen.

Thoros sat down heavily across the fire from Jaime, and Brienne shifted until she was between them. 

Jaime smiled. “Tell me then, what did my men say?”

Thoros gave him an appraising look. “You threatened to send Lord Edmure’s babe to him in a trebuchet.”

Brienne gasped. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. But he had pushed Bran Stark out of a window only two years ago. Jaime wouldn’t look at her. He nodded and did not speak a word in his own defense. It was true then. Bile rose in Brienne’s throat.

“They also say you ended the siege swiftly, without bloodshed, much to their dismay. You sent Lord Edmure to Casterly Rock unharmed after Ser Ryman had forced Edmure to stand in the noose day after day.”

“I vowed not to take up arms against Stark or Tully. People will believe anything of the Kingslayer, even that I would kill a babe.” Jaime’s words were bitter. He was right. Even she had believed it.

“Your men do not know what to make of you, ser. You have a fearsome reputation, but they say you forbade them from looting fields and towns. You executed a soldier at Harrenhal for raping a whore who now washes your clothes and fucks your squire. Meanwhile you fight the King’s Justice badly each night and always sleep alone. Your men camp outside castles and holdfasts rather than breaking down the gates. Men who came with you hoping to spill blood are gravely disappointed.”

At that Jaime risked a glance at Brienne, but she kept her face impassive. While Thoros conducted his own private trial, Brienne was still waiting for an ambush. “Legends rarely live up to their reputation in the flesh,” Jaime said quietly. “The Blackfish found me most disappointing.”

“There is one more matter. You pushed Lady Stark’s son out of a tower window. You left him broken.” Thoros said bluntly.

Brienne had never met Bran Stark, but his death had pushed Lady Catelyn to release Jaime. The woman’s pain had affected her deeply.

“Ah, that.” Jaime stared into the fire. “He nearly fell on his own, would have if I hadn’t grabbed him. But when I looked at him, I saw Cersei and Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen … their heads on spikes. Robert did not take kindly to treason. And in that moment, I pushed him. It’s not something I take pride in, but had I that moment back, I would only push harder. I would not leave him crippled again.”

Brienne had hoped Jaime would express some regret, but this was hardly the first monstrous act he’d confessed. She had known what he was when they left Riverrun. What he had become, she could not say.

Thoros sighed. “The lady’s … involvement with you does not speak well for her, Kingslayer.”

“It speaks well for me,” Jaime snapped. “I gave Lady Brienne both the sword and the letter. My family had nothing to do with it. Our king does so love stamping his seal on papers, and I had thought it might open doors that would otherwise remain barred. The blade indeed matches this one.” Jaime pulled the sword from its scabbard and held it up so Thoros could see the red and black rippled blade shining in the firelight. “Lord Tywin had them re-forged from Ned Stark’s blade. He gave this one to Joffrey, and the lady’s to me. I named mine Oathkeeper and gave it to Lady Brienne. She would have continued searching for the Stark girls. I simply provided coin and good steel to aid her.”

“Is that all you … provided?” Thoros asked pointedly. Jaime’s face betrayed only confusion. “My brothers called her the Kingslayer’s whore,” Thoros continued.

Jaime shot to his feet, the blade now pointed at Thoros. “Watch your tongue. That is the Maid of Tarth you speak of.”

Thoros grinned blandly, clearly unconcerned that Jaime would actually harm him. There was triumph in his eyes.

Such a ridiculous taunt couldn't wound her anymore. Jaime’s wicked grin looked forced to her eyes. “I remember protecting her maidenhead more than once. I don’t remember taking it. And I would remember.” 

“She called your name in her fever. Not Kingslayer, not Ser Jaime, but Jaime… over and over again.”

That was not something she wished him to know. Brienne’s face burned with humiliation. How he would taunt her about this. Jaime turned to her, one eyebrow raised with the unspoken question. She nodded once. He would laugh. Had she learned nothing from Renly?

The cruel jest she expected never came. Instead Jaime shrugged. “Lady Brienne swore on her sword that she would find Sansa Stark. Even dying she didn’t want to fail me.” He turned back to Thoros. “When they took my hand, she kept me alive and brought me home as Lady Catelyn charged her. Until your Lady Stoneheart made her, she never lied to me. I would not dishonor her.”

She had not thought he valued her honesty. He had chastised her for it often enough.

Jaime sat down again, and admired the sword again for a moment before sheathing it. She could see the longing in his gaze. Another life, one he could never get back.

Thoros leaned forward. “The ancient texts speak of a hero, Azor Ahai, who defeated the Others during the Long Night. He carried a remarkable sword with a red blade. It was called Lightbringer. The sword was lost to time and legend, but prophecy speaks of a time when Azor Ahai will rise again, carrying Lightbringer, the flaming red sword of heroes, to defeat the darkness.”

“Is that what you were doing in the melee? Beating back the darkness?” Jaime glanced up at Brienne. He had always teased her about her love for the old tales. But she wasn’t smiling now. The hero was never a scarred beast of a woman. There was no place for Brienne in those tales.

“In all my travels, I have never seen red blades such as these.” Neither had Brienne. She kept Oathkeeper carefully hidden when she traveled. Valyrian steel was rare, and a blade topped with gold and rubies could support a desperate man for many moons.

“Thoros, this is not the Age of Heroes. There will be no songs about a scarred warrior maiden and a one-handed Kingslayer defeating the Others.” She wondered if Jaime meant to be patronizing or if this was just how he spoke to everyone.

Brienne turned to face Thoros. She was tired of dwelling on Jaime’s many sins. If Podrick and Hyle were already dead, she would kill Thoros and end this. “Ser Jaime loves nothing better than the sound of his own voice, but I must know, do my squire and Ser Hyle still live?”

Thoros shifted uncomfortably. “They do, but I have no doubt that Lady Stoneheart means to kill you all.”

“Really?” Jaime drawled. “Of course she does. Lady Brienne is the only one who still expects others to honor their oaths.”

“There is little honor in sending a woman with a broken arm to kill a man with one hand,” Thoros admitted.

Jaime looked up at Brienne sharply. “Your arm is broken? Fool, wench, sit down and help us sort this out.”

Reluctantly, Brienne sat down, closer to Jaime than Thoros. She looked past Jaime, still expecting the Brotherhood to emerge from the shadows. Her arm was partially healed, or she could never have drawn her sword. Pain had been her constant companion for so long that she barely noticed it anymore.

“What do you want of us?” Jaime asked Thoros. “If you wanted me dead all you had to do was wait.”

“I wasn’t sure until now.” Thoros looked pained. “I knew it was a mistake when Beric brought her back. His light was fading. He had little to give her. Each day the Brotherhood becomes more … and less … than it was. More vengeful, more cruel, less interested in justice.”

“You want me to kill her.” Jaime’s voice was flat.

‘You can’t mean that.” Brienne was outraged. Lady Catelyn was terrible to look at, but she clearly still remembered her life well enough to hang Freys and demand Jaime’s death.

“Of course he does, sweetling. Thoros has grown old and weak and the broken pair of us are stronger. Strong enough to undo his mistake.” Jaime’s bitterness surprised her.

Brienne’s hand dropped to Oathkeeper’s hilt. “But I am in Lady Catelyn’s service, and you swore--”

Jaime was at her side in a moment, his hand covering hers. His skin was hot, callouses scraping the back of her hand. “To bring her daughters home. Should we bring them to their mother’s living corpse?” 

This was madness. She had watched Renly die, she could not kill Lady Catelyn. _I swore to serve her…_

More gently, he asked, “Brienne, do you think Lady Stark wanted this? Hanging men by the score? Ruled by vengeance? Does that sound like the woman who committed treason to protect her daughters?”

Brienne went rigid, panic and horror freezing her. “Jaime, no,” she whispered. Her hands began to shake. He would make her an oathbreaker too?

Jaime squeezed her hand tightly. “Please.” Her world shrank down to his hand on hers, his soft voice, his eyes bright in the firelight. “Your squire, your knight… this might be the only way.”

 _I am lost._ Brienne nodded.


	3. Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cruel determination twisted his mouth. He bowed to her. “Shall we finish our dance, my lady? Last time we were so rudely interrupted.”

When dawn broke, Jaime and Brienne were already riding toward the hidden cave Thoros had told them about. She had not slept, letting Jaime sleep all night propped up sitting by the fire. In spite of everything, she had found herself studying his face. Who was he now? Not the man she'd first met, nor the man she left in King's Landing.

Brienne cursed herself for her weakness. A few touches and kind words, and she would break every oath. She ought to go home, marry Ser Hyle, and be done with it. At last they were approaching the cave the Brotherhood had released her from. Belatedly she realized that they must intend to kill her, or they would not have risked letting her see the cave entrance.

Jaime finally broke the silence. “I won’t ask you to kill her. I’ll do it.”

Brienne looked at him sharply. “Can you?” She’d seen him fight with his left hand once. He might have survived one minute against a squire.

“I’ll have to. I’ve been practicing. Ser Ilyn seems to enjoy bruising me.” He smiled hopefully but she couldn’t respond, and his smile faded. “Wench, I will do what I can. But she will not be alone. You must deal with the others.”

Brienne nodded. She couldn’t bear to look at him anymore, so she focused on the path ahead. She could take the others as long as she didn’t look at what remained of Lady Catelyn.

“Good, because if I must put an end to Stoneheart I won’t have time to gut every man who called you a whore.”

His anger was wasted. It was hardly the worst thing ever said about her. “If I killed every man who insulted me I’d leave a trail of bodies everywhere I went.”

“You’d have killed me a hundred times if not for your oaths.” Jaime abruptly reined in his horse. He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Do you trust me?” His gaze was fierce, his grip painful.

Brienne flinched away from him. _The Kingslayer sitting in his cell with Lady Catelyn, gaunt and covered in filth, eyes glittering with malice._ Under the anger, there was pain. The monster, the Kingslayer, would always be part of him. But not all. He was not the man he once was. Slowly she nodded. “I trust you.”

“Remember that.”

 

* * *

 

Before Brienne’s eyes adjusted to the dimness of the cave, she heard it. “Kingslayer.” The voice was a horror, a hiss so cold it reached Brienne’s bones.

She stepped forward, all too aware of Oathkeeper sheathed at her hip. “I brought him as I vowed,” Brienne said coldly, holding the point of his own sword at Jaime’s throat, her left hand digging into his arm.

Jaime’s chin thrust up arrogantly, blood still dripping down his cheek where he’d insisted Brienne hit him. “I should have left you in the bear pit,” he spat.

Stung, Brienne pulled the sword back and kicked his knees out from under him. Jaime hit the floor of the cave and looked up at her with disgust. He turned to Stoneheart defiantly. “Happy now? The Kingslayer maimed and brought low? I thought you had more honor.”

Stoneheart made a rattling noise that Brienne was horrified to realize was laughter. She said something, and Thoros at her side spoke up. “For your men, the price was the Kingslayer’s life.”

Brienne shook her head. “Hang him then. I kept my oath.”

“Blood,” Stoneheart hissed. “Sword.”

Jaime laughed then, bitterness welling up. “You should have let me bring the King’s Justice. He was in my camp.”

Brienne shook her head and begged Stoneheart. “Trial by combat. At least give him that.”

Stoneheart muttered to Thoros again. “Very well. The end will be the same.”

Brienne scanned the chamber. Hyle and Pod must be further inside the cave. She couldn’t see them in the dim firelight. There were only seven brothers present, including Thoros. Stoneheart stood clutching King Robb’s bronze crown. They’d hoped for fewer foes, but with luck she could take six. As long as they did not come all at once.

She backed up and offered the sword to Jaime. He stood and took it while she pulled Oathkeeper from its sheath. _They stood in the creek, circling each other. With a blade in his hands, the Kingslayer came alive._

Jaime fell into his stance, waiting. Cruel determination twisted his mouth. He bowed to her. “Shall we finish our dance, my lady? Last time we were so rudely interrupted.” _Jaime struggled beneath her, fighting for breath as she shoved him under the water again, blood running down her wounded leg._

“Let’s end this,” she agreed, and he slashed out at her. Jaime was quick and graceful even now, but she parried the blow with ease. As they’d planned, she pressed him back toward Stoneheart, closer to the men around them. Thoros stepped silently away and the others spread out a bit, giving them room.

Brienne pressed in again, striking a glancing blow against the chainmail protecting his ribs. He grimaced but did not falter. His green eyes were dark, terrible and beautiful. “You’ve improved, wench. But not enough.”

With that Jaime wheeled around and with one stroke parted Stoneheart’s head from her body.

The cave erupted in shouts. The men were all armed, but most held only daggers. Those with swords had not expected to use them. By the time they realized what was happening, Brienne had opened the throats of two men. The others tried to fight, but then Jaime was at her side and the Brotherhood stood no chance.

Brienne had lost track of Thoros in the fray and was surprised to see him emerge from the back of the cave with Hyle and Pod. Both looked hungry and beaten, but they lived. “Go,” Thoros commanded, standing over the remains of Lady Catelyn Stark.

 _What have I done?_ Brienne could hardly move. The rush of the battle was ebbing away and now she could see only the bodies lying tangled on the floor, the blood dripping off her blade, the bronze crown in a half-rotted hand. Jaime tugged on her arm and forced her to leave.

They didn’t stop riding for hours, until they reached the meeting place Thoros had suggested. By then a bone-deep numbness had settled over Brienne. She took refuge in the familiar task of cleaning Oathkeeper, but even that could not stop the whispers in her mind. _Oathbreaker. Kingslayer’s whore. Freak._ What must her father think of her now?

Brienne had just sheathed her sword when she noticed Jaime and Hyle talking quietly just out of earshot. At first they seemed to argue, but then both men looked over at her. Brienne couldn’t read Jaime’s expression. Hyle turned back to Jaime and nodded. Jaime pulled up his sleeve and began unfastening the golden hand from his wrist. He pulled it off and Hyle took it from him, wrapping it in a cloth and shoving it into his saddle bag.

Jaime left Hyle and came to sit beside her. “Ser Hyle will be going with Thoros.”

“Where?” Hyle must finally believe he would not have Tarth.

“Casterly Rock.”

“Why?” Was Jaime Lord of Casterly Rock now? Warden of the West? She’d heard of his father’s death.

Jaime sighed. “I asked them to take Lady Catelyn’s bones to her brother. Edmure is hostage there.”

This must be for her, a parting gift before he left. “Why give Ser Hyle your hand?”

Jaime smirked. “To show that I sent him. Although Edmure would rather have my head. I would write but Tommen writes better letters.” His smile faltered at the thought of Tommen.

“You’ll see him soon.” And Cersei.

Jaime stood up. “No, not yet. First we have business to attend to in the Vale.”

  
  



	4. Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you remember why I came back for you at Harrenhal?”  
> “You said you dreamed of me.”

Jaime woke to winter. He was cold, it was still dark, the wind was howling, and the fire had burned low. Judging by how rested he felt, once again Brienne had not woken him for his watch.

They’d left the Riverlands almost a week ago, and Brienne had barely spoken or slept. When she did sleep, she thrashed and cried. She avoided Jaime’s eyes and his touch when he dared it. Jaime remembered how the Red Wedding had broken her, and this was somehow worse. At least then she would eat and sleep. At this rate, she would lay down and die before they reached the Gates of the Moon.

Podrick had no trouble sleeping. The squire was curled up into a ball, wrapped in a single thin blanket and so close to the fire that he would set himself ablaze if he rolled over in his sleep. Mothering him was the only thing that brought the wench back to life at all.

Slowly, Jaime rolled over so he could see her. Brienne was sitting away from the fire, watching the opening of the cave where they had sheltered the last two nights. A sudden snowstorm had stopped their progress not long after they reached the Mountains of the Moon.

Half her face was shadowed, half bathed in flickering firelight. She’d stopped wearing the bandage on her bitten cheek. The damage was worse than Jaime had hoped, but it was healing slowly and he tried to treat it matter-of-factly as she had with his stump. She did not need or want his pity. The fading marks of the noose still angered him, but then Jaime would remember the moment he killed Stoneheart. He hadn’t felt that alive since he'd lost his hand.

Jaime groaned loudly and made a show of getting up, giving her time. He took his blanket and hers and went to her. “No mountain clans yet?”

“No, just snow and dark.” Her voice was flat.

Jaime sat down beside her, putting himself between Brienne and the cave entrance. “You should sleep. I’ll take the next watch.”

She shook her head. “Not tired.”

“You need rest.” The horses often had to be led along the steep mountain paths, and Jaime thought he might lose a toe or two to the cold if they kept this up for long.

“Please just sleep.”

Jaime had thought killing Lady Stoneheart himself would make things easier for Brienne. Instead she withdrew from him more each day. He tried teasing her, more gently than he used to. He tried leaving her alone. He hated not knowing what to do. Spending his entire life with one woman had left Jaime struggling to understand Brienne. She knew all the worst parts of him, and yet she believed he was more than the Kingslayer. He’d let her go before, but she had never left his thoughts.

Brienne was not small and beautiful; she would not be a pretty ornament on his arm at court, but he wanted no one else at his side. It had taken seeing her again to show him that. Whatever time Jaime could get with her, he would take. Destroying the Brotherhood Without Banners and possibly finding Sansa Stark were bonuses that would explain his time away when Kevan inevitably ordered him home to King’s Landing.

“I’ll sit with you, if you will have me.” She didn’t answer, so Jaime wrapped himself in his blanket and covered her awkwardly with the other.

She didn’t want him there. She could hardly look at him. “Brienne, do you want me to leave?” Better to find out now, when he could still go back to his troops. By now they must be at Riverrun.

Her eyes snapped up to his with surprise. “No, of course not. I don’t understand why you came with us, but … don’t go.” There was something so fragile in her voice, as if those words came at great cost.

“I know Baelish, I can help if Sansa really is there. For once, my reputation will work in our favor.” Jaime found himself explaining, rather than saying what needed said. _You are important to me. I want you with me._ Once they reached the Gates of the Moon, time alone would be difficult to find. “Do you remember why I came back for you at Harrenhal?”

“You said you dreamed of me.”

Jaime nodded. “I did. I fell asleep against a weirwood stump after a hearty dose of dreamwine. And I dreamed of you.”

“Were we fighting?”

He laughed quietly, and leaned against her shoulder. He was freezing, but where they touched she warmed him. “Yes, but not each other. I was deep under Casterly Rock, in a watery cave I’d never seen before. Father and Cersei were there, carrying a torch. And Cersei said, ‘This is your place. This is your darkness,’ and they left me there alone in the dark.”

“You said I was there?”

When Brienne didn’t move away from him, Jaime rested his hand on her arm. “Not yet. Patience, wench. So I was alone in the darkness, but there was a sword in the water at my feet. And when I picked it up, the blade blazed up in blue flames, shining in the dark.”

“You’re borrowing Thoros’ tale,” Brienne scoffed. She was looking past him out into the swirling snow. He needed her to look at him. Jaime was so tired of seeing her gaze skip right past him. “I am not. On my honor as a …” Brienne rolled her eyes, and Jaime laughed. _There’s my wench._ “Oh, all right, but I swear, it was covered in flames. And then there was a splash in the water behind me, and it was you.”

She snorted and shook her head a little in disbelief.

He smiled again. Perhaps he wouldn’t tell her they were both naked. “Your hands were bound, but I cut you loose. And when you drew your sword out of the water it took flame too.”

She was watching him closely now. Her eyes kept darting down to his hand, still resting on her arm.

“And then you saw something coming.” Jaime shivered suddenly. “It was my brothers, the Kingsguard that rode to the Trident with Rhaegar, and he was among them. They accused me of betraying Aerys, abandoning Elia and her children. You stood with me even as the flame in my sword guttered out, but yours still burned as they came at us.”

Jaime let out a shaky breath. He hadn’t thought about that in many moons.

“And then?” Brienne prompted, shoving him a little.

“I woke up. It was nearly dawn, and I told Steelshanks we had to go back. So we did.”

“For me.”

“For you.”

“Why?” Jaime had never heard her so timid. Brienne shrank away from him a little, as if she couldn’t bear to hear his answer now that she’d asked.

Why indeed? Because Jaime was stupid and thoughtless and rash and ... he had to. Jaime hadn't been able to bear to let Hoat put out the fire in her eyes. He looked down and deliberately took Brienne's calloused hand in his, lacing his fingers through hers. “Because I needed you.”

Jaime could feel her gaze on him, but he couldn’t move. Not yet. “I need you still.” The words rushed out in a single breath. “I’m no good at this noble quest business. If you die of grief, young Podrick and I are certain to make a hash of it. You must live, Brienne.”

Jaime looked up then. Her eyes were still red-rimmed with exhaustion and smoke, but there was a spark in their deep blue depths again, even if just for this moment. _Seven save us, I love her._

“Live, and fight, and take revenge?” Brienne asked with a ghost of a smile. Her words, when he was dying. All this time, and she remembered.

“Live, and fight.” Jaime took a deep breath. “And love.” Still looking straight into her startled eyes, he brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

Jaime let their linked hands drop to the blankets and settled against Brienne. Dawn would come soon, but until then, he was content to sit here and watch the snow fall.


End file.
